


I Fought the Fridge

by FicticiousDelicious



Category: Bleach
Genre: Comedy, Complete, Cooking, Crack, DO NOT REPOST MY FANWORKS, Fake Blood, Food, Funny, Humor, M/M, No Sex, One Shot, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-14 21:14:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18060257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FicticiousDelicious/pseuds/FicticiousDelicious
Summary: Ichigo has a lot of trouble making gelatin.If he wasn't a dumbass it wouldn't have gone so badly, and Grimmjow's presence doesn't help..This oneshot short is complete!This is an Ao3 exclusive story! You'll only find it here.!!Disclaimer!! I do not own the characters mentioned in I Fought the Fridge nor do I make any profit of any kind from their mention. Ownership of these Bleach characters goes to Tite Kubo. All Characters © Tite KuboDeviantArt.com/FicticiousDelicious or FicticiousDelicious.Tumblr.com





	I Fought the Fridge

**I Fought the Fridge**

_Based on my own stupidity._

 

_A one-shot fanfiction short written by FicticiousDelicious._

 

            He wouldn’t call himself a masterful chef or an aspiring one either but Ichigo did his fair share of cooking. Whether it was nachos or steak he seemed to do well enough, but everyone who does well still has their off days and today…Ichigo was making fruity flavored _gelatin_. He didn’t figure it could be very hard.

            Ichigo tore open two large boxes of strawberry and one of cherry gelatin powder, the sugared and store-bought boxed kind, because what kind of a heathen would eat non-sugar gelatin when they were perfectly healthy to eat sugar? Ichigo didn’t have a strict standard for his health anyway, he just ate things when he was hungry. Like a boss. He left the powder alone in a ceramic mixing bowl beside a glass mold and waited for a pot of water to boil. Apparently a watched pot does boil; he had no idea if it worked on anything else though. Leaning on the counter Ichigo stared intently at the pot in what could only be described as a gaze of sheer boredom hoping that the intensity alone would be enough to make this goddamn water boil faster. Five minutes was a long time for a teenager even if he was almost twenty. Why hadn’t he asked for an electric kettle for his birthday?

            “Hey ass-less.”

            A voice interrupted Ichigo’s willful boredom stare, scaring the shit out of him and he flinched. “Damn!” Ichigo whipped around. “What the hell Grimmjow?! You shouldn’t just go sneaking up on people.”

            “I wasn’t sneaking you’re just deaf, Kurosaki.” The Espada frowned as he looked around at the items across the counter and the pot of water. Was Ichigo cooking? “I’m hungry.”

            “For souls or nachos?” Ichigo was all flat tones for that smart remark.

            “Neither, _ass-less_.” Why did Grimmjow call Ichigo this? What a good question! He didn’t know the answer either, but it did make Ichigo red in the face and angry so he kept doing it.

            “Why do you even- Nevermind.” Ichigo backed his rear up to the counter. “Don’t look at my ass, and go find your own food.” The nineteen-year-old scowled.

            With an irritated growl and an extra dramatic roll of his eyes Grimmjow skulked off. “You’re a terrible host!” he was shouting as he went.

            “I never invited you into my family’s house, you _mooch!_ ” Grimmjow’s saving grace out of being a mooch was that he made a terrific sparring partner. Grimmjows wobble but they bounce right back. Ichigo waited a second until it sounded like the Espada was completely gone. Suddenly Ichigo heard the hiss of water hitting the burner as the pot of it started to boil over. Hands quickly flew to the knob on the stove and turned it off as he lifted the pot of water off of the electric stove. The water calmed its tits…if it had tits to begin with. Damn genderless water. Thankfully not much of it had boiled out. This was minor hurdle number one.

            Pouring scalding, or even just plain _molten_ , water into the mixing bowl over the two kinds of red gelatin powder Ichigo was careful not to add too much water; the viscosity needed to be a little more than usual for this to work and not have the gelatin sticking to the sides of the glass mold. Aaaaah the scientific art of great gelatin molding…and something something about a great and dirt-old, dead philosopher endorsing it.

            Reaching for a wooden spoon Ichigo would lean lazily on the counter again, stirring the molten water around and around as the soaked powder was dissolving. Getting all of it to break down was pretty easy but really damn important. If this step failed he’d be left with gelatin that had the texture of sand…and if he wanted a beachy gelatin Ichigo would have poured in some ‘sex on the beach’ syrup…however he did _not_ want that! So the sugar granules had to go.

            The molten bowl steamed. Staring into the fruity, cherry and strawberry, smelling mixing bowl was like gazing into a rich bloody abyss as the spoon swirled… In the darkest corners resided a velvety and deep crimson, but in the lit space through the center was looked like a brilliant rose.  The ripples of the gelatin sucked in Ichigo’s focus as he enjoyed the fruity scent and he stirred in a headspace of zen, until the powder was absolutely dissolved. This isn’t a love story about some guy and his gelatin though.

            When finished dissolving the powder completely, the gelatin mixture went right into the glass mold. It was easily poured; Ichigo was lucky, that stuff could make quite a mess. The mold was glass and not plastic because his toned buns were collectively too lazy to go out and buy a plastic mold for himself; this glass one wasn’t even his either, it was actually a mold for Yuzu’s cake recipes and Ichigo was borrowing it without asking – _bad brother!_ Luckily nothing bad ever happens to people who borrow things without asking. Shaking to get the last droplets out of the mixing bowl Ichigo didn’t spill or splash the viscous sanguine treat and took the empty ceramic mixing bowl to the sink immediately and set it _right_ down. A little hot on the hands that had been…being warmed was fine but he didn’t want to _burn_ his hands. The human scooted back to the counter where the mixture rested in the mold and proudly picked up the glass mold by holding the glass handles on the sides of its rim. This didn’t have a chance of burning him. Ichigo carried his crimson creation toward the refrigerator and stopped in front of the french doors of the appliance realizing that he didn’t have a hand to open this damn thing. Hurdle number _two!_ “Grimmjow!”

            No answer, and no one else was home.

            Where was that good for punching son of a bitch? Oh well. He didn’t want Grimmjow’s help anyway! Working his own problem Ichigo raised a bare foot and managed to grip the lower part of the fridge’s door handle with his toes and pulled. The door swung open easy enough. Grand! Just grand. Ichigo stared at the place he wanted to put the mold down to make sure that it was actually suitable for his royal craving to be placed upon and even leaned in a little to inspect. Then shit got _stupid_. Hurdle number three. The fridge door bounced back in its swing, like a recoiling bungee cord, and knocked into the oblivious human’s arm with just enough force…

            After the door knocking into Ichigo’s one arm _molten_ gelatin splashed out of the mold and onto his _other_ arm. That really fucking hurt! Four. The human flinched, which of course meant that the molten gelatin splashed to the other side too and burned his opposite arm next. Five. With two throbbing forearms, Ichigo’s internal thoughts were screaming ‘get this fucking thing out of my hands so I can nurse these burns’ and he leaned forward to set the mold of gelatin, which he’d somehow managed to still be holding, down in the fridge…and bumped the edge of it against the bottom of the deli locker. Sexy six.

            Back-splashing from the collision with the plastic locker molten gelatin ran _all down_ the front of Ichigo’s body soaking through his shirt and _jeans_. Everyone knows how nicely jeans hold onto liquid! These are not the heating pads- _pants_ you are looking for… This unfortunately left Ichigo’s man-tits, washboard core, dingle-dangle, boyishly shaven legs below the jeans and bare monkey-grabby feet as sore and scalded as his arms. Shocked enough to hold in the pain-scream he had been tempted to let out, the burning of his dingle-dangle made this _especially_ horrible as it felt like it was going to either fall off from the scorching or retract never to be seen again. He was in so much pain that the feeling was a little blurry. Ichigo at least had the common sense to _finally_ drop the glass mold after a few moments of shock and pain, such pain that he felt he couldn’t even make a sound if he truly wanted to. CLONK. The glass dish hit the bottom of the fridge.

            By some holy miracle the mold did not shatter on impact, but the burnt hero took a step back from the sloppy red mess splashed down himself, the bottom of the fridge and the floor…and promptly _slipped_ on the sadistic strawberry-cherry liquid slip ‘n slide that he’d created. Seven. Ichigo’s integrated rump cushions hit the ground with a thump that hurt even though he had a nice ass to cushion the fall with – Grimmjow would have disagreed. From the pain and the slip Ichigo’s teenage temper started to peg.

            Burnt, covered in sticky gelatin matter like a cum-soaked porn star (but absolutely not loving it) and now on the floor Ichigo of course tried to get up right away. Unsurprisingly he slipped _again_. Eight. His rage gage just pegged out and broke. Ichigo punched the fridge’s still closed door and immediately after grabbed the dented thing and started to pull. He was going to _kill_ this refrigerator for visiting this agony upon him! He was going to do it!!! _MURDER!_ The fridge rolled forward…

            No. The main character in this story does not die by being crushed under a fridge. Sorry, but if Aizen couldn’t kill Ichigo there’s no way to make-believe that a fridge could…though maybe if Aizen’s weapon had been a fridge and he pissed gelatin…

            When Grimmjow came back around eventually with a sealed bowl of instant ramen, that he’d found under Ichigo’s bed, his timing was too good. He found the appliance half dislodged from its cubby in the kitchen and of course he saw Ichigo too, sitting in the sticky blood-like mess trying to rip the door off the refrigerator covered in red gelatin mess, and just assumed that Ichigo had _finally_ snapped. “You know I’m really disappointed in your use of time and resources.” Ichigo should have just fought him instead of his food. Just another day in hell with these fucking weird humans.

            All covered in strawberry-cherry murder matter, Ichigo conjured a death glare at Grimmjow who taunted him at the wrong time and recognized his ramen in that fiend’s mitts. Here comes hurdle number nine and ten. “You put that ramen _right_ back where you found it.”

            “Make me, ass-less.”

            …and then, with a third terrific slip on the mess across the floor, Ichigo knocked Grimmjow out with a glass gelatin mold. It broke upon impact this time, a matter which Ichigo would be explaining to Yuzu later _right after_ he explained to his old man why the fridge door was dented in all following hiding Grimmjow’s body somewhere that no one could find.

 

            This isn’t a tale of woe or virtue, it’s a simple lesson to KEEP YOUR _MONKEY-ASS FEET_ OFF OF THE FOOD RECEPTICLE and use your god-given hands! …and how to _not_ get away with murder.

**Author's Note:**

> The gelatin story has now been told.  
> I couldn't pass up an opportunity of making Ichigo look like an ass in front of Grimmjow with a real dumb situation.  
> RIP Ichigo's dignity.
> 
> Real life lessons with fanfiction, kids.


End file.
